I Remember

I still find it hard to believe...
I'm still horrified...
I'm still in awe of the brave few...
I honor those that ran "in" instead of "away"...
I feel for those who lost loved ones...
I still cry...
I remember...
Yes, I remember... I remember the tears I cried, the horror I felt watching the towers fall and thinking about so many lives lost to hatred and religious ideology... but most of all, I remember how personal I took this tragedy.  First the numbness and then the disbelief and finally the outrage!  How dare they... how dare anyone!  What kind of mind... what kind of evil incarnate could even think of such a thing and act on it???  I don't know.  I can't explain it, so I learned to accept the fact that it happened.  It happened and we must never let anything of this magnitude happen ANYWHERE again.
So, we took the fight to "them".  Nine long years my military brothers and sisters have been out there in the desert and mountainous regions, hunting down those responsible.  Many have died... on both sides, and sad to say, many more will.  The loss of life to this tragedy that happened nine years ago continues and this chills me to the bone.
So, yeah... I remember.  I honor all of those who have fought, who continue to fight and those that are going to fight.
Yes... I still cry... because... I remember... 
And now The Boy is a Marine.  I very good, gungo-ho, OOH-RAH, Semper Fi, field Marine.  He is getting ready to be deployed to Afghanistan.  So, this fight... just turned VERY personal.


My 65 year old Mother just sent me a text... How fricking cool is that!


Poem I Wrote of My Bus Riding Days

Silence disquiets him
So he fills the air
With nonsensical anecdotes
And his discomfort comes to bear.

His voice carries
Breaking our barriers
Of sanity,
And with a collective sigh
We all realize
His stop is next
And all shall be quiet
Up front once more.


The Dry Erase Board

There is a Dry Erase Board that hangs on the frig.  Most of the time we jot down groceries we need, something on TV we don't want to miss, or if LT wants to share something interesting with me when I get home.  On occasion, LT and I will hold conversations on said board, most of the time they stem from a comment she has heard or read.  Here's one of them:

Comment:  "Acting normal is just a game I play"

ME:  Me 2 I just suck at it!
LT:   1 game the "game player" can't play- Normal! LMAO

I'll be sharing more of these as they come up.

So, yeah...


A 70 yro tweeker kicks at empty air, teeth gnashing... a couple of homeless teens trying to keep warm... Just another typical early morning at Kent Station.


At Last...

Happiness is a leisurely stroll to the bus stop in a slight drizzle and a hint of cherry blossoms in the air... 
Spring has arrived in the PacNW...

So... Ah!



June 2009, I found myself at the Showare, watching The Boy graduate from high school.  In October of 2009, I find myself sitting in the reviewing stands amongst Officers and Honored Guests, at the Marine Corp Recruit Depot, San Diego. The Boy is graduating from boot camp and he's the Company Honorman, which in civilianese means he is the valedictorian of the graduating class.  Number 1 in a company of 400 plus young men.  
I was so overwhelmed with emotion that day...  I was so proud of his achievements, full of joy to see him, and scared to death of things to come.  Even now I get a bit teary-eyed thinking about that day.

His Grandparents, Sister, Dad and I had spent some time with him the day before and I remember saying to myself over and over again, "this is not my little boy anymore...".  It took me a while to get used to it... Hell, who am I kidding, I'm still trying to get used to it!

Now, I had not been to SoCal in ten years, and that in itself was an emotional trip.  I got to see cousins, uncles, aunts, and friends that I had not seen in a very long time.  It felt great to reconnect with them all, but I also longed to be back home with LT.  It was the first time since we have been together that we spent more than 12 hrs apart!  It was not easy for either one of us, hardest on her since she suffers from panic attacks.  I felt so duplicitous because I wanted to be back in SoCal and visit with friends and family, but I also wanted to hurry thru those 5 days and get back home.

The Boy came home for 2 weeks before he had to go back to Camp Pendelton, San Diego, for MCT (Marine Combat Training).  Watching him leave was not as bad, so LT and I thought, "Right on... getting the hang of this, no dig deal..."  The Boy did well and graduated as Company Honorman again, but this time he was going straight to his MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) School instead of coming home for a few days.  My heart constricted a bit, but such is the life of a Warrior's Mom, right? 

Then, the Holidays happened...

Thanksgiving was very weird.  Not having him here, just us three girls, it was a little numbing.  He called and sent me a picture of his Turkey Dinner... I'm sure it was a "see Ma... I'm okay..." kinda of thing.  He's such a good boy to his Momma.

For Christmas, he had called and we had made plans that he would get here on a Monday night.  LT and I were very excited and just couldn't wait to see The Boy.  Meanwhile, his sister was complaining of her brother not talking to her, and not answering texts, ect... I just thought, he's busy, he has a lot to do now, not knowing that all along those two cherubs turned monsters were hatching out a plan.  So the Friday before he's suppose to show, I get a phone call around 10:30pm.  I see it's The Boy and my heart drops.  He won't be able to make it.  So I pick up the phone and try not to show my disappointment as I say "Hello..."  
He responds with, "Why is my yard such a mess?"  
His words just didn't make sense to me... So I say "What?"
"Why is my lawn such a mess, why is there leafs on my lawn..."
Then it hits me...  He's talking about our lawn.  As I walk to the door, I say into the phone, "You better not be f%#*ing with me..." and there he stood... My Boy...  I felt like I was in a Folger's commercial!
When he left this last time, I was a mess, because I knew that he was one step closer to being deployed.  It was very hard to see him leave.

So now The Boy is getting ready to finish his MOS training, top of his class and will be the Class Honorman.  To top it off, he will be stationed in Camp Pendelton.  The Marines he will be serving with just got back from a deployment, so they will be state-side for a year before they go back out.  Another plus, he will have my parents about an hour away and a good friend stationed at the same base.

A Mothers, and Grandparents, Prayers answered...

So... AMEN!


Life After Children

Um, I have ignored my blog for a very long time... Memorial Day, 2009 was my last post. Bad Mommy!

So much has happened, and I will try my best to catch you up with what has been going on. Plus I also have a friend that is going to keep my honest. He's blogging too and will nag me if I don't keep up. A favor that I will most happily return if he doesn't keep his blog up.

So climb aboard, folks... Pull down the safety bar and get ready! It's gonna be a roll
er coaster of emotions. Welcome to the ride called Life-After-Children! You don't have to keep your hands and feet inside the car and scream your head off if you like, cause here we go...



Title To Be Determined

Here's a story that i will occasionally sit down and add a few lines too. It's a great idea, has some interesting characters and i am going to try my best to keep up with it and bring it to fruition. I hope you enjoy it.


Part one

It's a typical summer night in the Puget Sound. The Moon is full and creates interesting shapes and shadows as it shines through the trees. Two of the shadows seem to have a life of their own as they move to and fro quietly. These shadows make their way to a clearing amongst the trees where a wooden skeleton, a promise of a house that is a dream come true, sits alone and unprotected.

"This is an abomination. Have I told you, that my Dad and I used to come here? We'd just sit and listen to the quiet of nature surround us. The only sound you could hear was the water lapping against the shore. Now look at it... the land has been marred by some idiot with money and no regard for the beauty of untouched land."

"Dude, you sure this is ok? I mean, it wasn't like, we asked if it was, you know... to do this one."

"Stop being such a pussy, Weed. Who cares if this was sanctioned or not. This is for the greater good. These rich assholes need to be taught a lesson, an expensive lesson. It's the only way they'll learn."

"I don't know, man... I just think we should have asked or something, ya know?"

"Look, since you don't have the balls to do the real work, why don't you go spray paint the calling card, ok? Just gimme the lighter fluid"

"Fuck you, Monk. At least I ain't no boot-lick, kiss-ass that is trying to make nice and get cozy with the Greenie Elite."

"Shut the Hell up, Dick-Weed. You wanna tell the whole world we're here." "Yeah, right, whatever", he says as he walks towards one of the bulldozers.

Monk walks toward the framework and starts soaking all the lumber. He works fast and meticulously, making sure that every piece of this would-be house burns to the ground hot and fast.

"You done?"

"Yeah. Did ya' leave our tag?"

"Yeah, on one of the Honeybuckets. I also have rags hanging out of the gas tanks of the bobcats and the Deere."

"High five, brother! That's the spirit. Okay... here she goes..."

Monk takes the silver Zippo out of his pocket and touches it to a stack of 2x4's. A bright flash of orange and the fire starts to devour the framework like a greedy child eating his favorite sweets.

"Oohwee! Look at her go. Toss the spray cans into the fire... get rid of the finger prints. Here…", Monk tosses the Zippo to Weed, "Go take care of those 'dozers while I get the boat ready."

"Yeah... you got it, Monk."

Weed runs toward the equipment as Monk heads toward the dock. Monk jumps into the small Zodiac and starts up the outboard motor. Just as the first 'dozer goes up in a ball of flames, he hears Weeds footsteps on the dock.

"Monk.... Monk, help me out, man."

Monk jumps out of the boat and runs towards Weed.

"What the fuck? Is that blood? Shit! What you do?"

"I tripped over some tarps and landed in a pile full of broken glass and shit. Help me into the boat. I heard sirens... We has got to go, man!"

"Yeah, lets get the Hell out of here. I think we've made our point."

Monk helps the bleeding boy into the Zodiac and pushes off the dock. The sound of the outboard motor at full throttle is lost among the explosions and sirens in the distance as the boys flee into the night.

Somewhere across Lake Union a phone rings, waking a sleeper. His hand searches for the cause of his rude awakening. He grabs the phone and answers with a very sleepy, "Hello..."

"Turn the TV on. Dan has a story that might be of interest to you…"

The caller hangs up and he is left listening to the monotonous dial tone. He reaches for his remote control and turns the TV to KOMO 4 News.

"...and now to recap our breaking news. There is a house fire on Lake Union as we speak. The multi-million dollar complex that was to be a retreat is now burning out of control. Firefighters arrived on the scene moments after the fire started, and could do nothing but make sure that the fire did not spread into the surrounding trees. The spray painted logo of the Green Anarchists Invisible Army, also known as G.A.I.A., was found spray painted on a Honeybucket at the scene. ATF has been notified and is standing by to investigate the cause of the fire...”


He jumps out of bed and goes into his study, opens a drawer in his mahogany desk and grabs his phone with a secured line. He punches in some numbers and waits for someone to pick up on the other side.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Shut the Hell up, Wort, and listen. Who auth’ed a run tonight?"

"N-No one. There shouldn't be anything going on."

"Really... It so happens that while I was watching the News, I find out that a GAIA logo was found spray painted on a Honeybucket, a house is burning to the ground, and ATF is on the scene."

"Shit! No worries sir, I'll find out who did it."

"See that you do. Found the assholes and bring them here to me! Understand?" "Y-Yes, sir."

He hits the end call button and flings the phone at the rich cherry wood shelves that line the walls of his study, shelves of books that he has never bothered to read nor does he ever plan to. His study, like everything else in his life is about status. What looks good to the upper management and what he can flaunt to his underlings.

The phone rings and he stares at it in disbelief. No one has this number. It rings again and out of curiosity he picks it up and answers the phone with a tentative, "Hello..."

"Mr. Lyneaux, I thought we had an understanding."

"W-Who is this?"

"You offend me, Mr Lyneaux. First you go back on your word and now you do not remember me. You really disappoint me. If a business associate dropped a few million dollars in my lap, I would make special effort to remember who it was."

"Miss Xin-Lao, I'm so sorry... I was just surprised that the phone rang, no one has this number."

"Pay the right people enough money and you can have anything you desire, Mr Lyneaux. Now, please explain to me why it is that my project has burned to the ground."

"Your project?"

"Yes, Mr Lyneaux. Imagine my surprise while I am watching your news and I see my house burning, and what is even more interesting, there is a GAIA tag sprayed on a portable."

"I had no idea that was yours, but no one gave an ok to do a anything tonight. This was an independent job. Someone acting on there own..."

"Mr Lyneaux, a man who has no control over his servants is a mere servant himself. See to it that I am not disappointed again. It could end up being detrimental to your health."

The connection is ended and Mr Lyneaux is left contemplating her last words.